Clow Cards & Broomsticks
by Catsy
Summary: Cardcaptor Sakura/Harry Potter crossover that I was writing way back in the day. It's been abandoned for over 10 years and probably won't be continued. Sorry.
1. Auspicious Messenger

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)  
  
Foreword: I first started writing this back in January of 2001, and posted the first chapter of it to the CFFML in early March. Apparently, someone else recently started posting a suspiciously similar CCS/HP crossover to ff.net. Since I can't find said fic posted to any other ML, and therefore can't date it, I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt and assume the writing of their fic is unrelated to this one.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
It was not a normal day in the life of sixteen-year-old Harry Potter. Of course, Harry's life hadn't been normal since age 11, when he found out that his parents had actually been powerful wizards and that he was going off to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to become one himself. No, Harry's life was far from normal, but today was especially so, seeing as how one does not everyday receive a letter from the Headmaster--after the end of the school year.  
  
Said abnormal day had at least begun in the most normal fashion imaginable. Harry had slept through his alarm clock and was woken up by the sound of his Aunt Petunia screaming at him from his bedroom door.  
  
"Harry Potter! Get out of bed this instant! Don't think for a moment you're going to slack off the whole summer!"  
  
Mrs. Dursley actually said a little more than that, accompanied by frantic gesturing, but Harry didn't hear much of it. He tuned out the sound of her voice as he'd learned to do, and mumbled something approaching agreement as he dragged himself out of bed at his own pace. The Dursleys would no way no how set foot in his room and try to physically wake him; not after what had happened the last time their son Dudley had thought it'd be a lot of laughs to try tickling Harry whilst asleep. It had taken about a week before dandelions had ceased growing out of the Dursley boy's armpits. It could've gotten him into trouble with the Ministry and Hogwarts, but fortunately Dumbledore had suggested that people regularly did far worse to those who woke them up prematurely.  
  
Aunt Petunia watched him with wary eyes for a few moments to ensure that he really was up for good, and then retreated back downstairs quickly. Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and fumbled around on the nightstand for his glasses.  
  
The dream was fading, and in the manner of most dreams worth remembering, fading fast. Why couldn't the nightmares he'd had about his parents' deaths have fled his memory so easily? The very thought raised hairs on Harry's arms, and he sought to banish it from his mind by digging at the dream. A tall man with Asian features, dark hair, and dress typical of a wizard had been part of it--that much he could remember. A young girl. A language he couldn't understand.  
  
Harry pulled a fresh pair of trousers on and worried at his lip. No, that was all, and even that much was getting fuzzy fast. Harry absently wished he'd paid more attention in the Dream Interpretation portions of his curriculum--he was always having odd dreams. The one good lesson that had come out of that was that most dreams did have some sort of underlying meaning, even if they were only a part of one's subconscious. He had never been any good at it, and it might be worth mentioning to Headmaster Dumbledore the next time he saw him.  
  
As Harry made his way downstairs, all thoughts of Dumbledore and Hogwarts left his mind. He wouldn't be returning to his beloved school for a few months, and in the meantime he had to live with the Dursleys. The Dursleys were the most dreadfully mundane individuals in the world, and they loathed any reminder of who and what Harry was. In fact, it was fair to say that they loathed Harry himself, and took every opportunity to make sure he never forgot it. Living with the Dursleys and being a wizard was a lot like walking a tightrope in high heels over a pit of manure. One slip, and Harry could be in deep--  
  
"Breakfast has been served!" came Aunt Petunia's shrill voice from the kitchen. "Another minute and Dudley will get your portion!"  
  
Harry hurried to the kitchen and began to eat his breakfast--eggs and cereal--without without comment. He wasn't particularly hungry, but there was some question as to whether his cousin Dudley would be able to fit through the kitchen door if he ate more than one serving, and Harry wanted to go outside when he was done.  
  
As he devoured his omelet, Harry heard a distinct /rat-a-tat-tap/ sound from outside. The Dursleys must have heard it too, because they looked around suspiciously, as if expecting mythical beasts to come leaping out of their orange juice. Harry glanced around the kitchen fruitlessly at first, and then went back to his meal.  
  
/Rat-a-tap. Rat-tat-tatta-tap./ The Dursleys were looking at /him/ now, and that was bad. Raising his eyes from his plate, Harry saw a large owl pecking at the kitchen window. A large, unseasonably white owl.  
  
Harry feigned great interest in his cornflakes.  
  
"Dad!" Dudley whined. "Whatever's making that noise, make it stop!" Uncle Vernon swiveled his head halfway around. That was as far as the man's almost-nonexistent neck would permit, and the rest of the turn was accomplished by shifting his weight ponderously in the chair.  
  
Harry hardly dared to look back up, but when he did, the owl was gone. Uncle Vernon gave a self-satisfied grunt, and reversed the turn. "Probably a bird. Petunia, remind me to set out some feed when breakfast is done."  
  
Wolfing down as much of his breakfast as he could in thirty seconds, Harry picked up his plate and tried to excuse himself from the table. He made it as far as the kitchen sink, but as he was rinsing his plate, a now-familiar white visage came to the window in front of him.  
  
/Rat-a-tat-tap./  
  
As all eyes turned to face him and the window, Harry mentally counted the hexes that should befall whoever sent this owl to the kitchen in the middle of the day. Owls were the typical means of sending a message in the wizarding world, and were much more quick and efficient than the post anyway. However, to say that the Dursleys loathed any reminder of the wizarding world was perhaps an understatement. It outright /terrified/ them. As Harry opened the window to take the message, Uncle Vernon's face took on the aspect of a plump red apple, and Aunt Petunia shrieked illiterately. Dudley, who had often been the target--unintended and otherwise--of magical misfortunes, tried to scamper backwards, but found that the chair he was sitting in got in his way. Then he was falling back over it, breaking the chair into splinters under his considerable weight.  
  
It was Vernon who first recovered, bolting out of his chair and thundering at Harry from a safe distance. "You were told to keep your... friends and their ratty birds away from this house, you worthless hooligan!"  
  
Petunia was next, shooting a gaze filled with broadswords at Harry as she helped Dudley up off the floor. "And in broad daylight!" She sounded utterly scandalized. "The neighbors will be asking about it later, I just know it! The nerve!"  
  
Harry was inclined to agree with the lack of wisdom in sending the owl in the middle of the day, but only because this reaction was completely and utterly predictable. "Whoever it was probably didn't know," Harry said defensively. "I've told everyone at Hogwarts not to--"  
  
A cacophony immediately erupted from the Dursleys at the mention of the word /Hogwarts./ Harry winced, realizing that he should've known better. After the outburst calmed and Harry was sent to his room, he tore open the parcel to see what it was. Along with a letter, a small cloth bag fell out of the package, with a note hastily scribbled in Dumbledore's handwriting: /Read the letter first--when you're alone!/  
  
As he quickly scanned the letter, Harry's heart began to race.  
  
Dear Harry,  
My apologies in advance for any troubles this causes with your Aunt and Uncle. However, this is a most important matter which could not bear to wait until nightfall.  
We--that is, the Ministry of Magic and myself--need to speak with you in person straightaway. In the enclosed parcel you will find a portkey, which is enchanted to bring you directly to my chambers. Do not open this parcel until you've informed your Aunt and Uncle and are ready to transport, but please do so without delay! Bring your wand and your broom.  
- Albus Dumbledore  
  
/Is this about the dandelion incident?/ Harry wondered nervously. But no, that wouldn't make any sense--he'd just get a letter from the Ministry again, a written notice of some sort. It didn't add up. Whatever it was, he decided, it was an excuse to get away from the Dursleys for perhaps a day, and therefore worth whatever trouble he was in. A bad day at Hogwarts was infinitely preferable to a good day with the Dursleys any day of the year.  
  
The reaction of the Dursleys was, again, predictable. They balked at first at the mention of Harry going away, since this sounded suspiciously like /fun/--and anything which brought Harry joy was to be discouraged, prohibited, and stomped on at every available opportunity.  
  
"You're probably right, Uncle Vernon," Harry said with a sudden flash of insight. "I think they want to talk to me about the last incident with Dudley again." Harry did his best to sound uneasy at the prospect, and shifted from foot to foot.  
  
Vernon's eyes veritably gleamed. "Is that so?" he huffed. Exchanging a glance with Petunia, he rubbed his hands together. "Well, we can't have you running away from your consequences, now. You've got to learn that indulging in that... foulness in this household will do nothing but get you in trouble!"  
  
Dudley murmured his loud assent around a lox bagel, wide-eyed.  
  
Harry fought to keep a dejected look on his face, inwardly praying that this turned out to be nothing more than a bluff, rather than a self-fulfilling prophecy. "If you say so," he replied quietly.  
  
"Now then, how do you plan on getting there? Do we need to drive you to the train station again?"  
  
Harry blinked, and pulled the parcel out of his pocket on an impish whim. "Not this time. They provided me with a portkey, so all I have to do is open this up and take it out."  
  
The bait worked. Vernon's eyes became like saucers, and he roared, "NOT IN THIS KITCHEN, YOU DON'T!"  
  
Harry made as if he'd been caught in the mid-motion of opening the parcel, and blinked innocently. "But... it really doesn't do anything, I just magically disappear."  
  
Dudley had plastered himself against the far wall, his mouth working around the bagel. Aunt Petunia was yelling incoherently, occasionally forming words like /I never/ and /out of here now/. Uncle Vernon lunged towards Harry to stop him, but ended up getting the kitchen tablecloth caught in his belt buckle. The rest was just the natural progression of physics, and rather messy physics at that.  
  
Turning and running before anyone saw his grin, Harry bolted up the stairs and gathered his belongings.  
  
  
Note:  
This is shaping up to be a /long/ fic, and since I'm intending this both for fans of CCS who might not have read HP, and vice versa, there's going to be a lot of setup and introduction of characters and concepts, exactly as if you were a new reader to both. As a result, this first chapter or two is *mostly* from the HP side, so bear with me.  
  
Timewise, this fic is set in 1997, which means that Harry's about to start his last year of school, and the CCS manga is around the end of volume 5. You may assume all relevant spoiler warnings for both series for anything before that time. Anything set /after/ that time in CCS, or any books which follow book 4, may be assumed to be AU.  



	2. Lingua Omnimodus

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Harry appeared in Headmaster Albus Dumbledore's office with a sharp /crack/ of displaced air. The abrupt changes in altitude and climate made his ears pop and his nose begin to run, and Harry wobbled a little bit on his feet.  
  
Dumbledore rose from his chair, smiled warmly, and offered Harry a handkerchief. "Harry, Harry, so glad you could join us. How was your trip?"  
  
Harry suspected, from the crinkling at the corners of Dumbledore's eyes, that the Headmaster was having him on a bit, and he smiled despite the sudden disorientation. "As well as could be expected, sir. I think next time I'll take the scenic route." Looking around the room, he noticed immediately that he and Dumbledore were not alone. Three faces, one familiar and two not, smiled at him.  
  
"Harry, you already know Arthur Weasley."   
  
Harry did, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Arthur Weasley was hid friend Ron's father, and he worked at the Ministry of Magic in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. The purpose of Arthur's department was to keep enchanted items from falling into the hands of nonmagical people, whom the wizarding world called Muggles. If he was here in an official capacity, then it was anyone's guess what it had to do with Harry--but since Harry didn't own anything enchanted that wasn't with him now, he probably wasn't in trouble. At least, not for what he'd baited the Dursleys about.  
  
The next face was unfamiliar, and Dumbledore wasted no time in remedying that. "I don't believe you and Mrs. Krondratter have met. Harry Potter, meet Alicia Krondratter. She took over at the Ministry of International Magical Cooperation after the... demise of the late Mr. Crouch."  
  
Krondratter took a step forward and shook Harry's hand. "A pleasure to meet the legendary Potter child at last," she murmured in a quiet voice, one more suited to a librarian than the head of such an important department at the Ministry. Harry chafed, but showed no outward sign of his discomfort. He still disliked having people make a fuss over him for who he was--as if he'd asked for his parents to be great wizards!--but he was more or less used to it by now.  
  
Dumbledore gestured towards the third figure in the room, and by far the most strangely dressed, looking nothing so much like a figure out of one of Dudley's samurai movies. "And this is Nobuo Matsumori, a representative of the Japanese Ministry of International Magical Cooperation."  
  
Matsumori inclined his head and torso deeply in a bow, and spoke in a rich, accented baritone. "We too have heard much of Harry Potter. I hope that you can be of help in this matter."  
  
Something was odd about Matsumori as he spoke, but that wasn't what made Harry's mind do several somersaults and land at an uncomfortable angle. This wasn't adding up at all. He turned and looked at Dumbledore, and said, "Help? May I ask what this is all about?"  
  
Dumbledore's face wrinkled in a smile. "You may ask, but I have a question first. How have your dreams been lately?"  
  
Harry blinked. "Restless. I was going to ask you about them when I came back in the fall. Thought about even sending you an owl, but I can never remember them after I'm awake."  
  
"Better that you had, as you might've had more time to prepare. But nevertheless, allow me to venture a few educated guesses. They involve a young girl. You can't understand what she's saying. Jog any memories yet?"  
  
Jog wasn't the word. A dead run would more adequately describe the pace at which the deluge of memory flowed back into Harry.  
  
  
/The man's eyes were lidded, and his gentle smile warmed the room. "Kore kara, watashi ga gomeiwaku wo okake suru to omoimasu keredo..."  
  
/The girl took an involuntary step backwards, her medium brown bangs swaying lightly in the sourceless breeze that flowed through the dream state. "Atashi ni?"  
  
/The man's head bobbed almost imperceptibly. "Shikashi, anata nara..." His smile broadened a bit, and his eyes opened. The eyes were dark, so dark, very nearly pits of night itself, and that blackness glimmered with preternatual power. Those eyes, that smile, sent chills running up and down Harry's body, and every hair on his neck and arms stood on end. In spite of his body's reaction, Harry himself felt... strangely comforted. A sense of familiarity.  
  
/"'Zettai daijoubu' desu yo."/  
  
  
Harry snapped back into the present with what felt like the same physical impact as when he'd used the portkey. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead, and he staggered backwards, clutching at the edge of a bookcase.  
  
"Harry, my apologies. Are you quite all right?"  
  
Harry planted his broomstick against the floor and pushed himself back upright, his breathing returning to normal. "I... yes, I'm fine. It just... it came back to me all at once, that's all. More like a vision than a memory."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Understandable, since the dreams themselves are a magical by-product."  
  
Harry looked dumbfounded. "I've been doing magic in my sleep?"  
  
"Strictly speaking, no," Arthur said pleasantly. "Though the Improper Use of Magic Office thought so at first. It didn't take more than a night of observation to determine that something else entirely was happening, and that's where we came in."  
  
"I remember her now," Harry said. "And a man. But I couldn't understand anything they was saying. I don't even think I could repeat it."  
  
"Unsurprising, since they were probably speaking Japanese," Dumbledore remarked in good humor. "The girl is real, Harry. Her name is Sakura Kinomoto, and the two of you apparently have some sort of connection."  
  
"What do you mean, connection? Because of the dreams?"  
  
Matsumori spoke up. "It is perhaps more accurate to say that you have the dreams because of the connection. We do not know what it is, but we know that you must go to her. She is in a terrible danger."  
  
Harry added all of this together for a minute, and sank back into one of the plush chairs in Dumbledore's office. "Okay, let me make sure I have this straight. This girl and I have something to do with each other, some connection. She's in danger. And you need me to go to /Japan/?"  
  
Three sets of nods were his answer.  
  
"The Dursleys are going to have a /fit/."  
  
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled mischieviously. "One might think that would be a motivating factor for you, Harry."  
  
From his own perspective, Harry couldn't argue. And if this girl really was in danger, and there was something he could do to help... but there was one more thing that nagged at him.  
  
"You can't possibly be sending me alone. I don't speak the language, I don't know the culture... I'm not even an adult yet."  
  
"Quite true, my boy," Dumbledore agreed. "You will be granted special permission, as I understand, to use your magic /only/ for the purposes of this assignment. As for the language barrier... Mr. Matsumori may have a solution for that."  
  
"I do." Matsumori beckoned towards Harry and took out his own wand, giving it a few shakes to exercise his wrists. "There is a spell I must teach you. It will help you understand and make yourself understood, but it is not to be spread around."  
  
Harry nodded and slipped his wand out of his robes, holding it at ready.  
  
Matsumori's wand twitched in a peculiar pattern, and he mouthed the words, "/lingua omnimodus!/" A kaleidoscope pattern erupted from the tip of the wand, and washed back over Matsumori's hand and arm, thinning out and becoming less opaque, until by the time it covered his whole body, the multihued veil of energy completely disappeared.  
  
Recalling the twitch of the wand, Harry tried to repeat the spell. It took a few attempts, but finally he got it, felt that brief sensation that meant he'd done it right. Matsumori smiled in approval, and stepped back. "It is done."  
  
Harry regarded Matsumori curiously. "I don't feel any different."  
  
"Ah, but I hear you much differently now. Your accent in Japanese is charming. Extremely polite."  
  
Harry looked at Dumbledore and Krondratter, and started to open his mouth. Matsumori shook his head. "They will not hear the difference, because your native languages are the same. You say the same things, but the spell's effect is that everyone hears them in the language they think in, flavored by the accent and conversational style of the speaker."  
  
It was then that Harry realized what had been bugging him about Matsumori. When the man spoke, his words were completely out of sync with his lips. It was as bad as watching a Nelvana dub. Well, not quite that painful, but disorienting at any rate. "You've had that spell on the whole time."  
  
Matsumori dipped his head. "Yes. I regret to say that I do not speak English well. Do you understand why we do not widely teach this spell?"  
  
Harry thought for a moment. "You couldn't use it to talk to Muggles--they'd know right away from watching your lips that it wasn't natural."  
  
"Yes, but an illusion spell would nicely correct that complication. More to the point, it would obviate the need for people to learn one another's languages. It would deteriorate communication, not improve it. We believe that it is best reserved for situations where there is no alternative. I trust your discretion in using it."  
  
Harry nodded thoughtfully to Matsumori. "I see." It was a refreshing change--most wizards seemed to think that magic was the universal cure for any problem, often overlooking simpler Muggle methods. Harry wondered if Matsumori's was a uniquely Japanese viewpoint, or if he were just uncommonly perceptive.  
  
Krondratter grinned. "Not that it couldn't save us some embarassment from time to time."  
  
Dumbledore canted his head, as if listening to something far away. "Ah, that would be the arrival of our final guest."  
  
Listening, Harry couldn't hear anything. "Someone else?"  
  
"Oh, yes. I did forget to mention one last thing. You're going to have a partner on this assignment. Matsumori will help you as he can, but our Ministry felt it was necessary to send along an adult wizard in case you got into a bind."  
  
Harry looked around at everyone present. "An adult wizard? A partner? Well, who is--"  
  
At that moment the door to Dumbledore's office blew open, and something warm and soft struck Harry at somewhere near half the speed of sound. Harry very nearly lost his footing--/did/ lose his wand--and only bracing himself with his broom kept him on his feet.  
  
"Monsieur Potter! I 'ave been looking forward to seeing you again for so long!"  
  
Matsumori's face was impassive. Krondratter looked as if she were trying very hard not to crack up, and failing. Dumbledore's cheeks ruddied with amusement, and he said, "Harry, I believe you and Fleur Delacour are already well-acquainted."  
  
Harry's eyes bugged out as he tried to extricate himself from the arms wrapped around him, and he caught himself half-wishing he were back with the Dursleys. This was going to be a long trip. "Quite."  
  
  
Notes:  
/Lingua omnimodus/ is, roughly, derived from "universal language" in Latin. It's probably not grammatically correct, but then, neither are most spellwords in HP.  
  
The vision that Harry has is from a dream that Sakura has repeatedly in the CCS manga. I wrote it in the original Japanese (slightly embellished to make it flow better) to emphasize the fact that Harry--who doesn't speak Japanese--wouldn't understand what was being said.  
  
If you're curious, my translation of the scene is:  
  
Kore kara, watashi ga gomeiwaku wo okake suru to omoimasu keredo...  
From here on, I regret that I may cause you a bit of trouble...  
  
Atashi ni? (I added this line for Sakura)  
Me?  
  
Shikashi, anata nara... 'zettai daijoubu' desu yo. (I added the shikashi)  
However, knowing you... I'm sure 'everything will be all right'. 


	3. Tsuki no Yume

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Harry tried to pry Fleur off him as he sat down heavily in one of Dumbledore's chairs, but the girl remained firmly attached. If he didn't know better--and he did, really, he did!--he would've sworn the adults were amused by his predicament.  
  
"So how are we getting there?" Harry asked, trying to ignore the subtle scent of Fleur's perfume.  
  
Arthur Weasley scratched absently at the stubble on his chin, and looked at Dumbledore. "We've been trying to work that out. I think we might be able to get a house in Japan hooked up to the Floo network, but we've never done anything like that before. We're not even sure if it'd be safe to use at that distance."  
  
"Besides which," added Matsumori, "many Japanese homes do not have fireplaces."  
  
Harry let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He wasn't overly fond of traveling by Floo powder, which involved entering and exiting through a fireplace. He silently wondered just how Matsumori had gotten here in the first place, and why it wasn't feasible to return that way. "Apparation?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Definitely not safe at that distance. We did consider a portkey, though."  
  
"Broomsticks would take far too long, and be too conspicuous," Krondratter said sympathetically. "And I don't fancy anyone flying over Asia or the Middle East these days. Why, just last week this silly git in Iraq strayed into some area the Muggles don't want /anyone/ flying through, and nearly got themselves killed."  
  
It shouldn't have surprised Harry that nobody here had thought of the simplest option. After all, he was in the presence of three or four powerful wizards--some of the best to be found in the wizarding world, to be sure--but when it came to Muggles, their knowledge was limited at best. "Actually," he piped up, "I think we might be better off flying after all. But not by broomstick."  
  
Everyone's attention turned to Harry as he spoke. "Anyone here ever heard of an airplane?"  
  
  
Had the moon been a little lower in the sky, it would've been nicely enclosed in the skeletal frame of the temple archway--at least, it would appear so from where Sakura Kinomoto was standing. Even so, the brightness of the full moon cast the gate in a black silhouette against the night sky. Sakura stood tranfixed, admiring the austere beauty of the scene. It was similar to so many of the dreams she'd been having lately--so many of them seemed to involve the moon, the stars on a clear night sky, the silhouetted frame, and--  
  
And a man.  
  
He stood atop the gate as if he hadn't a care in the world. /No,/ Sakura thought after a moment, /stood/ wasn't the right word. The man perched as a bird might, so sure in his balance and footing that he might as well be standing on solid ground rather than the foot-wide wooden beams of the archway. Long hair flowed like silk in the light wind, and although the man's silhouette was black before the moon's almost sunlike brightness, Sakura thought she could see hints of silver reflected in the moonlight.  
  
/It's almost like.../  
  
She couldn't put her finger on the feeling. Not deja-vu. It was more like...  
  
/...like I know you already./  
  
The figure stood mutely, as if judging her for her silence.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Sakura-chan," came the answer. But the voice was her friend Tomoyo's, and that was most certainly not Tomoyo standing up there.  
  
"Sakura-chan... Sakura-chan!"  
  
Sakura awoke with a start, sleepy eyes opening with dawning horror as she realized where she was. Tomoyo was urgently shaking her arm, trying to get her attention, and her teacher was standing over her with a bemused smile on his face.  
  
"I hope my lecture wasn't that boring, Kinomoto," Mr. Terada said sternly but not unkindly.  
  
Sakura spluttered as she bolted upright and executed a hasty bow. "S-sensei! I'm... I'm sorry, I!"  
  
Terada chuckled lightly, waving one hand dismissively in a very Japanese fashion. "Don't beat yourself up over it. There aren't any club meetings today, so why don't you head on home and get some rest. Seems like you could use it."  
  
Cheeks burning with embarassment, Sakura packed up her things and rushed out of class. As expected, Tomoyo wasn't far behind, her lavender hair trailing as she hurried to catch up with Sakura.  
  
"I can /not/ believe I did that," Sakura said when she sensed Tomoyo at her side.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Tomoyo said, and genuinely sounded it. "I tried to wake you up. Didn't you sleep last night?"  
  
Nodding her head firmly, Sakura shrugged her shoulders alternately until her backpack stopping slipping. "I slept just fine. It's just that..." She paused and worried at her lip, thinking of a way to put this that wouldn't make Tomoyo worry. "I've been having the strangest visions, lately. Nothing scary, just a really big moon... people that I can't see clearly. People I don't recognize, but feel like I should."  
  
Tomoyo chewed on this for a minute. "Has Kero-chan had any prophetic dreams about this?"  
  
"I don't know." And she really didn't. The little flying stuffed animal had always been forthcoming with information before, but the moon dreams were new. "When I tell him about them, he just goes off on his own to think. What's more..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Sakura stopped and braced herself as a powerful gust of wind whipped through the park in between her home and Tomoeda Elementary. Sometimes it seemed like the city planners had designed the park as a wind tunnel; the paths through the trees were just right for funneling a stray gust into a tight area and yanking hats off heads. "I dunno. I feel like something unusual is about to happen. I just can't quite put it into words."  
  
"You felt it too?"  
  
The two girls' heads swiveled around, looking for the source of the voice. It was Sakura who spotted Syaoran Li first, sitting languidly in the lower branches of one of the cherry trees that were Sakura's namesake. "Li-kun!" Sakura cried out in surprise. "What are you--"  
  
Syaoran slipped off the branch fluidly, dropping fifteen feet to the ground and landing perfectly. Sakura fleetingly wondered if her classmate practiced that entrance.  
  
Syaoran wasted no time. With three purposeful strides he was before Sakura, his magical compass held out before him. The device was usually used to detect Clow Cards or other strong magical auras, but now the centerpiece spun aimlessly like a gimballed roulette wheel. Whereas one quadrant or another usually glowed to indicate the intensity of the aura, now the whole device shone with a powerful light. Sakura looked around nervously, hoping nobody wandered down this path and noticed.  
  
"The whole thing's lit up like a Christmas tree," Sakura observed in wonder.  
  
"It's overloaded," Syaoran explained. "The surge of energy is so powerful that the compass can't do anything."  
  
"You're telling me," Sakura replied. "Someone or something very, very powerful must be nearby."  
  
"A Clow Card?" Tomoyo wondered.  
  
"Unlikely," Syaoran said with a curt shake of the head. "I doubt just one of them could have this much power. It's more like a person, or a magical seal."  
  
"Sakura-chan!" came the voice of Yukito, a friend from the high school Sakura's brother attended. Syaoran gulped loudly and stuffed the compass under his cloak, willing it to deactivate.  
  
"Yukito-san!"  
  
"Hi there!" said Yukito with the customary smile that just made Sakura's heart melt. Tomoyo cheerfully greeted Yukito, while Syaoran blushed fiercely and avoided his eyes.  
  
"You guys on your way home?"  
  
"Yes!" came the chorused reply. The older boy seemed completely oblivious to both Sakura's gaze of unabashed adoration, and Syaoran's downcast look of painful embarassment.  
  
"Well then, want to have some cake together? My treat."  
  
Both Sakura and Syaoran bobbed their heads synchronously. Tomoyo stood at a distance and covered her mouth to hide a giggle.  
  
"All right then," said Yukito. "I know a great place not far from here." Sakura took off as soon as Yukito did, staring up at him with all the worshipful love the crush of an eleven-year-old could muster. Tomoyo followed quickly after, leaving Syaoran alone in their wake for a moment. The compass throbbed against his leg; though it was inactive and no longer spinning or shining with that unearthly light, he could feel the power yearning to be unleashed, yearning to point the way to something even he could not name.  
  
And things which could not be named were dangerous.  
  
Syaoran pulled the cloak of his school uniform more tightly around him, and ran to catch up.  
  
  
Notes:  
Many of the CCS scenes in this part are adapted from volume 5 of the manga.  
  
Tsuki no Yume means "moon dream" in Japanese. 


	4. Approaching Fate

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)  
  
Chapter 4  
  
It was Fleur's first time on an airplane, but to be fair, it was Harry's, too. He was privately amazed that they'd even managed to make it this far.  
  
Harry wasn't of age yet, so reservations had been arranged and paid for through the Ministry of Magic--who had also procured Muggle identification for Fleur and passports for both of them. The woman at the British Airways ticket counter had pursed her lips at the sight of Harry's owl Hedwig, but once a suitable cage had been arranged there were no more difficulties.  
  
"I still do not understand zis zing we are flying een. 'Ow can eet be safe eef zair are no enchantments?"  
  
Harry stared out the window as the plane began to taxi. Fleur probably did /not/ want to hear about airline safety statistics, and would take any mention of crashes quite badly, he was sure. At least the Ministry had managed to get them first-class seats; he probably never would've heard the end of her complaining if they'd been stuck in coach.  
  
"And zis service. Ah, mademoiselle!" Fleur signalled to a passing flight attendant. "Would you be so kind as to fetch me a glass of juice?"  
  
The attendant's response was hurried but polite. "We'll be in the air in a few minutes. Once we reach cruising altitude, we'll be bringing around our first drink and meal service."  
  
Fleur sniffed as the woman retreated. Harry sighed and suggested, "You should've drank something while we were waiting in the terminal, you know."  
  
Fleur didn't answer Harry. The flight attendants were beginning their pre-flight speech, and she was concentrating on what they were saying.  
  
"...in the event of a loss of cabin pressure, oxygen masks will drop from the ceiling above you." The flight attendant demonstrated with a disconnected mask, while video screens in the aisle ceiling in front of them showed a dramatization. Fleur boggled.  
  
"'Arry, what does zis mean, 'loss of cabin pressure'?"  
  
Harry bit his tongue. "The plane keeps this room under pressure so that we can breathe at very high altitudes. If something goes wrong, those masks are so we can still breathe."  
  
"...please secure your own mask like this, and then assist others who may need help."  
  
"Eef something goes wrong?" Fleur quoted back. "And 'ow often does zat 'appen?"  
  
"Not much," said Harry noncommittally.  
  
"But eet does?"  
  
"Fleur, you work with magic. Magic isn't perfect, and neither is technology. But they both work often enough. And if something /does/ go wrong--which it won't!--we still have our wands."  
  
"Excuse me," said the man in front of them. "This is all terribly fascinating, I'm sure, but we are trying to listen."  
  
Harry's face heated up, and he went silent.  
  
"...in the event of an emergency, your seat cushion can be used as a flotation device..."  
  
"Why?" Fleur asked Harry.  
  
"In case we crash in the ocean," he replied in exasperation.  
  
Fleur boggled some more.  
  
The safety speech concluded, and as the flight attendants were pacing up and down the aisle checking that everyone's tray tables were up and their seat backs were locked in the fully upright position, Fleur caught the arm of the one who had passed by before. "Mademoiselle," she asked urgently. "Zees emergencies, zey do not 'appen often?"  
  
"Of course not," the flight attendant said with a patient smile. "We've got a right nice safety record behind us. Try looking out the window--that helps some first-time flyers."  
  
"I've flown before," Fleur said loftily, and Harry had to admit that she wasn't quite lying, depending on how you took it.  
  
"Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff," came the captain's voice over the intercom.  
  
Fleur checked and rechecked her seatbelt nervously. Looking around her for a moment, she pulled out her wand, tapped the buckle, and whispered, "/corpus compesco/!"  
  
"Put that away!" Harry hissed.  
  
"Nobody was looking!" Fleur hissed back.  
  
With a surge of forward motion, the plane began racing down the runway. Harry plastered his face to the window in fascination, and Fleur leaned over and plastered herself to Harry to get a look out the window. And then the bottom dropped out of their stomachs, and they were rising into the air, Heathrow dropping away below them with amazing speed.  
  
After about half an hour, they were over the ocean, and it was no longer very interesting to stare out of the window. Fleur had found Muggle fashion magazines in the pouch in front of her, and was leafing through them with great amusement. Harry, on the other hand, took a moment reflect on their assignment.  
  
"The Clow Cards were created long ago by the great wizard Clow Read," Matsumori had told them. "Nobody knows exactly when or why. Legend has it that when Clow died, the Cards were sealed away within a sacred book. He who breaks the seal will become the new master of the Cards, and with them, the inheritor of Clow's power.  
  
"I believe that this girl, Sakura, has found the Cards--but couldn't control them. Their magic has scattered itself all over Japan. If she has begun the process of recapturing them, then she is now inextricably linked to their power."  
  
/Matsumori thinks something big is about to happen,/ Harry thought as he glanced out the window at the passing cloudscape. /And I don't blame him. I've had that feeling myself. I just wish I could sort it out./  
  
It was going to be a 15-hour flight. Harry leaned back and decided to get some rest.  
  
  
Cerberus--known to Sakura and the others as Kero--floated two feet above the floor of Sakura's room, in his diminuitive form. Hovering before him was Clow's book, in which the Cards had been sealed for so many years. It gave off a radiant energy which seemed to seep into the very walls, soaking them in power. In years to come, Cerberus knew, this room would be so saturated with residual power that Sakura would be lucky if anything electrical worked at all. Already her alarm clock was suffering the detrimental effects of close proximity to powerful magic.  
  
"Only a few more Clow Cards," he murmured to himself. The book burned with light as if in answer.  
  
"Cerberus, Guardian of the Seal." Cerberus chanted his name and purpose like a mantra. "Symbol, Sun."  
  
"Every time Sakura seals a Card, my power returns in force." It hurt him to have to spend lifetimes locked within this tiny form, masquerading as a stuffed animal. It was beneath his pride. But at least he had full knowledge of himself, had mobility. Yue, on the other hand...  
  
"But at the same time, Yue's power also grows stronger."  
  
Cerberus lowered his eyes. "I can sense him."  
  
"During Sakura's school play, when Dark and Light were sealed, I felt something much stronger than those two Cards. At that time, the presence I felt most strongly... was Yue's."  
  
Staring into the brilliance emanating from the Book of the Clow as if he could find a vision in there, much as Clow himself used to practice farseeing in the dancing flames of the fireplace, Cerberus felt a chill of premonition overtake him. He didn't have to have Clow's gift as a /senkensha/, or seer, to know what was coming. It was embedded firmly in every cell and mote of magic in his existence.  
  
"Yue, The Judge. Symbol, Moon. If you fail to seal the Cards, Sakura, this world will witness disaster the likes of which man has not seen."  
  
/Sakura,/ Cerberus thought with both fondness and dread. /The Time of Judgement draws near./  
  
Notes:  
Yes, I've pretty well got the preflight checklist memorized. It happens when you travel on the average of at least once a month.  
  
Again, the CCS portion is adapted from volume 5. You can pretty well assume that for the next few chapters.  



	5. Trial by Fire

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)  
  
Chapter 5  
  
"What?!" Syaoran blurted out, stopping in the middle of the street.  
  
Sakura didn't look at him. "I said, Mizuki-sensei knew about the Clow Cards all along. And she said she has some sort of connection to them."  
  
Syaoran resumed his pace, and glanced furtively over his shoulder. Kaho Mizuki, their substitute math teacher, was fortunately still out of earshot, walking alongside Yukito and chatting gaily with him. "I knew it. I knew she was no ordinary person. So what was with you going all mushy-eyed at her?"  
  
"Er, uh... oh yeah!" Sakura blushed and changed the subject quickly. "Do you know anything about Yue?"  
  
Syaoran's expression grew serious. "The other Guardian of the Cards. There's Cerberus, The Seal Guardian, whose power derives from the sun... and Yue, The Judge, who draws his from the moon."  
  
/The moon?/ Sakura thought.  
  
"They were purportedly created by Clow Read to ensure the Cards didn't fall into the wrong hands."  
  
"But if Yue's the Judge," Sakura began, thinking aloud, "then what is he judging?"  
  
"You got me," Syaoran replied. "Clow didn't write much of anything useful about Yue in his spellbooks."  
  
Sakura looked thoughtful.  
  
"There's a book that the Cards came in, right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"That golden animal you saw on the front?" Syaoran pointed out. "That's Cerberus. The moon on the back is Yue."  
  
"Uh," said Sakura. "There uh, wasn't anything of the sort on the back."  
  
Syaoran's eyes bugged out. "Well then. I guess Cerberus and Yue are the only ones who really know what's going on."  
  
Sakura looked back. "Probably better cut this short. Yukito and Mizuki-sensei are catching up."  
  
"Sakura, look out!" Syaoran suddenly yelled, throwing her to the ground.  
  
Sakura hit the pavement hard. Looking up past Syaoran's arm, she saw at once what the problem was. A substantial fire was blazing in the middle of the street, very near where they were just standing a moment ago. Sakura could feel the intense heat from where she was, a sweat breaking out on her forehead despite the chilly air. She and Syaoran scrambled backwards, but quickly found that the fire had surrounded the two of them, as well as Kaho and Yukito.  
  
"I can feel it!" Syaoran said through clenched teeth. "The presence of--"  
  
"A Clow Card!" Sakura finished, sensing it herself.  
  
"This one's incredibly powerful," Syaoran added. "I've never felt anything like this before--watch it!" Tiny balls of flame detached themselves from the inferno, soared towards Sakura--but were stopped short by Yukito throwing his thick coat in front of her.  
  
"Are you all right?" he shouted.  
  
Sakura nodded nervously, and whispered aside to Syaoran. "I don't know what to do! Mizuki-sensei already knows about the Cards, but I can't use my magic in front of Yukito!"  
  
Syaoran looked back and forth between Sakura, Yukito, and the ring of fire encircling them... and made his decision, setting his jaw. He got up, and stood before Yukito, bowing in deep respect.  
  
"Forgive me!"  
  
Yukito only had a moment to stare bemusedly at Syaoran. And then he was doubled over by the younger boy's gut punch, his eyes glazing with unconsciousness.  
  
"Li-kun!" Sakura screamed. "What are you doing?"  
  
Syaoran snarled. "Don't worry! I only knocked him out, there was no other way!" Fire swirled through the air once more, coalescing into long tongues of flame that arced towards them. "Now get your ass in gear!"  
  
"O-okay!" Sakura willed herself to cease trembling as the flames veered towards them hungrily. She willed herself to be calm.  
  
/Everything will be fine,/ she thought. She lifted a tiny key from around her neck, held it before her, and shouted in a voice that was both familiar and not at all hers: "Release!"  
  
The key immediately formed into her staff, and no sooner was it in her hands than did she bring it down in a perfect arc, one of the Clow Cards whipping forth and meeting the head of the staff.  
  
"/Shield!/" she chanted out. Her voice gave name to the power, and as it did, the Card disappeared, forming into a gigantic shield which diverted the flames to either side, protecting her, Syaoran and Yukito. Sakura's eyes widened, however, when she saw that Kaho was separated from them, standing alone... with more flames headed her way.  
  
/I don't have time to divert the shield!/ she thought helplessly. "Mizuki-sensei! Look ou--"  
  
The warning was unnecessary. Before Sakura and Syaoran's bewildered eyes, Kaho brandished a scintillating golden bell from beneath her coat, and called out, "/kitai kakumae!/" The words seemed to vibrate with power, and with a resounding ring, energy surged outward from the bell, forming a protective sphere around her that turned the flames away.  
  
"That was... incredible," Sakura whispered.  
  
"Sakura Kinomoto!" Kaho announced. "Card Captor! You know what you must do."  
  
  
There were no words to describe the boredom Harry felt. He'd slept through the first few hours of the flight, but that had been a mistake--the dreams returned again, and this time they were far more ominous. In them he'd been consumed in a terrible firestorm, reaching out helplessly while the young Japanese girl--Sakura, wasn't it?--perished in flames before him. His sleep, as such, had been restless and unfulfilling. By the time he'd woken up, night had fallen and there was nothing to see outside.  
  
For a time, he and Fleur had filled the hours with small talk, catching up on the two years that had passed since they last saw each other. Small talk, however, didn't last forever, and as they approached mainland Japan, Fleur went back to sleep, and Harry decided to avail himself of the cabin headphones and listen to the radio.  
  
"...keganin wa gonin shika imasen deshita. tsuzukimashite, tomoeda-chou no aru machi de wa..."  
  
That was going to get him nowhere. Harry looked around furtively. Fleur was still fast asleep. For that matter, everyone in his section was; Harry couldn't see a single person in first class who was awake other than him. Harry withdrew his wand, and uttered, "/lingua omnimodus!/"  
  
After a moment, the garble of Japanese resolved into something much more intelligible. "...mysterious blazes which have sprung up over the ward. Standard firefighting methods appear to be ineffective, and the fires seem to disappear and reappear at random. The Tomoeda fire department has called upon the services of Minato and Shibuya for help. We'll have more as the situation develops. In other news..."  
  
Harry's blood went cold. Tomoeda. No, he must've heard it incorrectly. Half of these Japanese names sound alike.  
  
Reaching into the magazine pouch in front of him, Harry found a Kantou tourist guide, which had a foldout map and a variety of photographs. It took him a few minutes, but he finally found Tomoeda... and Minato, and Shibuya. And nothing else nearby that sounded remotely like Tomoeda.  
  
/"Pay attention to your dreams, my boy,"/ Dumbledore had admonished him more than once. /"They often tell you what you already know but haven't admitted."/  
  
Harry reached over and shook Fleur by the shoulder. She mumbled something incoherent, and he shook her again. "Fleur! Fleur!"  
  
Fleur's eyes came open, slowly. "Are we zair yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Harry said quietly. "Pretty close. But we don't have time." He explained what he'd heard on the radio, and about his dreams. Fleur stared out the window at the endless city lights passing far below them. From here, Japan looked like a miniature starscape; it was as if someone had taken the sky and turned it upside down, then placed it on the ground.  
  
"We could apparate," Fleur suggested quietly. "I know 'ow, and I am quite good at eet." She looked around the cabin, and chewed at her lip. "But people are beginning to wake up. And I 'ave nevair been to Japan, so I would not know where to go."  
  
Harry produced the tourist guide, flipping to the Tomoeda-chou section. It was covered with photos. "Would this help?"  
  
Fleur sized up the photos and considered their options. "Eet could. Eet would be risky."  
  
"I'll take that chance," Harry said firmly. "She's in trouble. I know it."  
  
"But where could we apparate from?"  
  
Harry cast his eyes about the cabin, knowing what he was looking for. It was the only place on the entire plane with any privacy.  
  
Fleur followed his eyes. "You are joking, of course."  
  
Harry's gaze didn't waver.  
  
"You are not joking." It was only half a question.  
  
"You're in the aisle seat," Harry said. "You get up first."  
  
Fleur sighed, and made her way to the bathroom, Harry in tow.  
  
Notes:  
Tomoeda, the ward in which Sakura lives and goes to school, is completely fictional. However, since it's made clear in the manga that she lives near the Tokyo Tower, I chose Minato and Shibuya as potential "neighboring" areas.  
  
Again, the Japanese babble is intended for contrast when Harry wouldn't understand it, but for the sake of anyone curious, the phrase is: "...there were only five injuries. In other news, in the Tomoeda ward..."  
  



	6. Mile-High Apparation

_Clow Cards and Broomsticks_  
Author: Catsy (nekojita@ayashi.net)

--

Chapter 6

It occurred to Harry that they probably looked pretty dodgy--a high school boy and a drop-dead gorgeous Frenchwoman sneaking off together to the bathroom in midflight with a tourist magazine. /If anyone says one word about joining the Mile-High Club,/ he grumped to himself, /I'm going to zap them into the luggage compartment./

"Zees must be ze seeliest thing I 'ave evair done," Fleur remarked.

"You need to get out and do more silly things," Harry replied with a wan smile. "Just worry about getting us on the ground."

"Merde!" Fleur's eyes went wide.

Following her gaze, Harry saw the problem--one of the flight attendants was emerging from the cockpit, about two seconds from turning around and looking right at them. Wrenching the bathroom door open, Fleur grabbed Harry by the collar and yanked him through the open doorway just in time. They fell in an undignified heap against the wall of the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind them a moment later.

"'Arry."

Harry blew his bangs out of his eyes and met Fleur's eyes. "What?"

"Your 'and."

Harry turned a unique and charming shade of red, and shot right to his feet, banging his head on the ceiling in the process. "Ow. These things were not made for tall people."

"Or for more than one at a time, I theenk." Fleur's smile was impish and vaguely come-hither.

Harry's blush deepened dramatically, and he thrust the tourist magazine at Fleur like a shield. "Tomoeda. You said you could get us there, and we don't have much time."

Fleur withdrew her wand, and tapped it against her knee experimentally, provoking a few iridescent sparkles from the tip. "Oui, oui, I unnerstand. Let me see zeese pictures, then." Her nose wrinkled for dramatic effect at the odor wafting up from the latrine.

"Tomoeda. Right here."

"Ah, zees ees very near ze Tokyo Tower. Zair should be no problem."

"Right," Harry said, his expression doubtful. "So how do we do this?"

A chime sounded, and a man's voice came over the intercom. "This is your captain speaking. We've just begun our approach to Narita International Airport, but there seem to be some delays in getting landing clearance. At this time, we'd like you all to return to your seats and..."

Fleur listened to the first half of the announcement, then laid the magazine down flat on the bathroom counter. Harry wondered whether this was for stability, or just so she didn't have to look at what was /on/ the counter.

"Zees picture here. Focus on it. Commit eet to memory, and tell me when you can close your eyes and see eet een your mind. Eet ees not necessary, but eet will 'elp if you can see the same place I can."

Harry did so, feeling a little bit silly himself now. Here he was, twelve thousand feet above Tokyo, standing almost nose-to-nose with Fleur Delacour in the loo of a 747, trying to visualize a flower garden."

"Focus, 'Arry!"

"I'm focusing! I think I've got it."

"You think?"

"I do. Let's do this."

There was a knock at the door, the sound of someone's knuckles rapping hollowly against the plastic. "Pardon me," came a familiar voice in a suspicious tone, "but you'll need to finish up in there. The Captain has requested that everyone return to their seats."

"The flight attendant," Fleur whispered.

"It won't matter if you get us out of here," Harry hissed back.

"Right. Close your eyes, 'Arry, and put your arm around me."

Harry's heart leapt into his throat. "Geh," was all that came out as a result, but he complied, feeling even more awkward.

"And I feared I would need a potion to get you zees close, 'Arry," Fleur teased. "Ready?"

Feeling his ears turn hot again, Harry made a face. "As I'll ever be."

"Zen 'ere goes."

Harry wasn't really sure what to expect. He'd seen other people apparate and disapparate before, but it was always with nothing more than an audible "pop". He wondered if it'd be like taking a portkey, where you were yanked from point A to point B at record speeds, somehow avoiding any solid objects in the way (though how they managed that was beyond Harry's ken). Harry never saw anyone approaching when apparating, though, no matter at what speeds--so he imagined it was much more direct than simply flying through the air--

Bamf.

Harry remembered reading comic books when he was younger, and in some of them there was this character who could teleport. "Bamf" was the onomatopoeic sound effect they always used to illustrate it, and now Harry knew why--that was the only way to describe the way that "pop" sounded to the person doing the teleporting.

Something was wrong, though. Harry felt a disorienting, weightless sensation. Everything around him was dark, and he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet.

"Fleur, where's the flower garden?" He had to raise his voice to be heard above the wind that whipped at them.

"Down zair," Fleur said as they began falling towards Tokyo from twelve thousand feet.

-

Sakura watched with dawning horror as Windy was consumed within the towering inferno, churning and spinning itself into a firestorm. Then there was a parting of the flames, and the Windy card fluttered down towards Sakura like an errant maple seed.

"Windy's gonna be useless against this opponent, Sakura!" Kero called out from high above as he looped to avoid a tendril of flame.

Sakura stared. Never before had she felt so powerless, so completely shut out by the failure of a Card. "Why?" she shouted up to Kero.

"Windy is one of the four elements! They're second only to Light and Dark in the Clow Cards! If Windy can't stand up to this..."

"Sakura!" Syaoran called out, rushing to her side. His face was flushed from the heat, and he kept giving nervous glances towards the unconscious Yukito, as if torn between concern for his safety and fear that he might wake up while Sakura was doing something mystical and flashy. "Of the four elements, which cards do you have so far?"

Sakura only needed a moment's thought. "Windy... Watery... then this must be..."

Syaoran gave a smug grunt. "Figured so. A Fire Card!"

As if in answer, the dancing flames coalesced into the semblance of eyes, which laughed out at Syaoran and Sakura playfully. A girl's face formed around those eyes, and with a capricious cackle, the incarnation of elemental fire soared skyward. Immense wings, like drooping fingers of iridescent tamed flames, sprouted from her back.

Syaoran stared in awe. "Fire is an offensive card, for attack--we'll never beat it with just Windy."

Her gaze hardening, Sakura stepped forward, whirling her staff high. "Then let's see how it deals with fire's opposite element," she said, her voice rising as a new Card flew forth and met the head of her staff, its power releasing in a thousand strands of bluish energy. "Watery!"

As Watery's humanoid form gained substance and raced towards its opponent, their elemental bodies clashing with a preternatural hiss and rush of hot steam, Sakura fervently hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.

--

Notes:

Sorry this one took so long. I got caught up in a bunch of other stuff (stares at [Pine Trees and Cherry Blossoms][1]) and had a big mental block on this part that I needed to get past. Then next ten or so chapters are pretty well planned out, but when it came down to actually writing them I just brainlocked.

  


   [1]: http://members.fanfiction.net/index.fic?action=story-read&storyid=271944



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